


Wandering, what it takes and many more of my mistakes

by sassyandlost



Series: Sweet Hibiscus Tea [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, DreamSMP - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add more tags when I find a spare fuck to give, Journey, Minor Violence, Sad, TommyInnit Needs a Break (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot Centric, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, just family - Freeform, post exile, stuff like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyandlost/pseuds/sassyandlost
Summary: Tommy throws a birthday party. No one comes. He builds up, looks onto the ground, decides to jump into water and then runs from exile.Following Wilbur on his journey to fix what needs to be fixed (with input from some others).Or, I say fuck canon, because egg arc is really not my thing and we're doing family hurt-comfort now.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit&Dream, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Sweet Hibiscus Tea [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140080
Comments: 64
Kudos: 209





	1. When it all goes down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ze_trashcan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ze_trashcan/gifts).



> It is a part of series, I reccomend reading the rest (strongly). It's my first story-writing work so spare me, please.  
>  **Some possible triggers:**  
>  assumed death  
> injuries (not graphic)  
> necessary violence  
> implied unnecessary violence  
> panic attacks  
> self harm  
> refusal of food(or something)  
> swearing (a lot of 'f***s, because english curses are lame and that's the only one I approve)

.

**W** hen Tubbo finally gathers his wits, goes to visit Tommy and comes back drenched in tears – that’s when the world wreaks into havoc. Or rather, the world they know. It’s scary, how when the screams die down there is nothing left but grim silence and howling wind.

It’s unusual, how with almost no words exchanged the ever-ongoing conflict seems suddenly forgotten. It’s even more odd that the one that breaks first is Dream.

The swords are lowered, bows and axes abandoned in the grass as they watch him, stunned - the man that claimed himself to be god, the terrific tyrant of the world, the ruthless warrior- break down into sobs, boil and throw weapons in hot anger, scream to the skies cursing the higher, primary gods. They can do nothing but watch, as the mask that at all times hid a part of that man, a symbol of power, falls onto the ground leaving nothing but wide, bloodshot eyes spilling anger, always anger, and confusion and determination and _loss_.

They watch those closest to him as they stare and don’t understand – that’s when true weight of what occurred sinks in. It’s not ‘only next death’ that happened, it’s permanent grief, it’s a change of pace, a change of history, that none of them are ready to face.

They’re still here when the god bends matter to summon objects to his wish. He sets up the ritual they all recognize. The complexity of spells, value of talismans and totems.

They’re all still here when it doesn’t work.

The silence isn’t long this time. Dream, broken and scarred, seems to shatter. They’re all lost in the continuous, unstopping stream of ‘kill me’s, pleads and ‘lock me down’s that he creams at Sam through a new wave of tears and it is only a hundred more begs later when they finally get an explanation.

“Well,” he slips exhausted to his knees. “It’s high time for me to confess.”

No one protests – the day was filled with dread, what difference does it make anyway.

As he finishes his shameful tale, eyes not on the ground – he holds the gaze of everyone that dares look at his face, accepts the full weight of his sins – no one protest as Sam wordlessly hoists him up and steers towards the looming building. They have friends to take care of and tears to dry off.

He built a prison, not a psych ward, Sam thinks, but if that’s what he must do then he will try.

Ghostbur is present when it all happens, it takes him almost a full day to forget. They all mourn quietly, only disturbed when he asks for an explanation. It’s a third Time he asks Tubbo, when the boy just trembles, eyes closed and face turned away, that he thinks if he hears what he forgot just one more time, he might remember that on for good. 

It’s a scary thought, remembering something that brings everyone so much pain, that he has a feeling he wouldn’t like. He decides he needs to find out anyway.

He can’t bring himself to put the burden on anyone else though, he knows that during the last few days he’s asked enough. He goes to Logstedshire. He finds what he recalls others telling him about, a chain-hoop, a plate on which he knows once stood a birthday cake and a neatly folded piece of paper inside of a chest buried in a rubble that was once Trent. 

Ghostbur knew he shouldn't read the letter; it was not addressed to him and specifically stated a wish to not be read by anyone but Alivebur. He'll make sure Alivebur reads this.  
In all honesty, he's baffled. He didn't know ghosts could cry.

When he walks back into L’manberg he passes his son, tense and carful, hand on his sword. Even through the ceasefire in all conflict on the server, he’s still deep into his mistrust and hurt. This, Ghostbur decides, is a problem for another day. He adds it to his to-fix list.

The sun is high in the sky, the wooden door heavy when he pushes it, warmed metal handle familiar under his hand. He hears Phil stop talking, sees him turn just a bit too fast. There are two mugs steaming on the table. How fortunate, he thinks, his beloved brother must be in the middle of his in-vis-iting.

“Phil.” He greets, high and smooth, but his eyes hold a fire that screams ‘dangerous’. And _Oh. It’s his president voice. They’re fucked._

“You are going to bring me back to life.”

.


	2. Don't loose your hope, pick up the crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not mean to post that today. It might be shit, I wouldn't know it is 12.20 am on a school night and tomorrow I'll be fucked.  
> Have fun.  
> Edit: cool. I forgot to name the chapter

.

**T** hey hold their staring contest until Techno startles them both by running out of his invisibility and materializing from thin air on the other seat. 

“Well, we do have the materials necessary. We could do it, like, right now” he says and there is something in his eyes Ghostbur thinks he can’t quite decipher. Phil must be able to, though, because they lock eyes again and he stands up with a sigh.

“You should get ready, then”

The items Dream used, or rather tried to, are still near the same patch of land they stood on three days ago, thrown by someone into a small chest. Phil mentally thanks them for their thoughtfulness. Techno gives him a questioning glance but Ghostbur doesn’t seem concerned. He shakes his head. The problem with Tommy’s resurrection couldn’t be the items – they were summoned by a god himself, there is simply no possibility of them being faulty. 

They set up the ritual. It is a lot different this time with just the three of them gathered.  
This time they don’t fail.

Not much changes. L’manburg is quiet and so is their home. Techno, who burrowed himself in ancient books as soon as they came back from the interrupted battle, moves from the couch onto a big, soft chair that stands in a small guest bedroom in their house. A chair that faces the bed. 

On the second day Phil remembers there are people who should probably be informed. Oh well. In the evening he goes to visit Niki.  
On the third day Techno and Niki sit near the bed together.

It’s three days after their lives change forever when he brings one of his sons back. It’s three days after that he finally wakes up and not even three minutes later that he passes out again. He wakes up next morning, though, so they don’t complain. He sits up on his own, which is a good sign. He tries to stand up and immediately falls, which is not. He sighs, puts his hands into his pockets and furrows his brows. Technoblade the Blood God and Niki Nihachu watch their friend take out a folded piece of yellow paper. They see the exact moment his shoulders tense and eyes go wide. They watch his expression change from fear to pain to understanding to determination.  
It’s been a very long time since they had a chance to talk to Wilbur, alive. The first thing they hear is a stern “Gather everyone” in _the voice_ and although it is very anticlimactic, and not at all what Niki expects, and Phil isn’t even there, Technoblade stands up and leaves without a word. She looks at her long-lost best friend and thinks that she never would have thought first thing she communicates to him to be a shrug. She thinks life is funny, in that way.

It is two hours later and nearly all the server’s citizens are cramped in a small, guest bedroom in Philza Minecraft’s house, taking up all the space. The confusion caused by Wilbur being, well, _there_ passes very quickly. These are people conditioned to accept change. When they’re all settled and calmed and only slightly confused, Wilbur picks up the letter he’s been clutching in his hand for a really long time now. There are some gasps and then the whole room seems to still. It’s a one held, shared breath later. 

“Is that…?” Tubbo not quite asks.

“It is not a suicide note.” Wilbur says. The boy looks like he has no clue if he should be relived or miserable. Wilbur nearly laughs. 

People are leaving the house one by one, gazes downcast and quiet reassurances left behind, until there’s only a few people left. The meeting is over, Wilbur thinks, but for them the time to discuss begins now. It is also the second time he tries to stand up. He fails.  
The people that are left gather around the table this time and Wilbur is _picked up, goodness what a disgrace,_ by his older brother in order to enable him participating. He’s settled between Phil and Tubbo, next to them is Niki facing Fundy, next to Techno next to Eret. 

“First of all, I still hate you” Fundy states, looking him directly in the eye.

“Understandable.” he agrees. “I’m going. I’m looking for him.”

“You can’t even walk, Will.” Phil points out.  
“As soon as I can.” He’s determined. He’s ridden by love and guilt; nothing can stop him. They know.

“And we will follow you.” Eret reassures. Niki nods eagerly. Tubbo does, too.

“I will, too.” Fundy says and, although Wilbur is far from forgiven, that’s what they need to do now.

A map is placed between them. They discuss. Niki brews tea. At some point Fundy falls asleep and has to be poked back to life by Eret. By midnight, they have formed a mutual promise, Wilbur calls it, because it can only be deemed a plan if you squint hard enough. Techno agrees. By midnight, they say their goodbyes and leave to sleep on the day’s occurrences. Tubbo stays.

Two days later Wilbur has been fed enough to gather strength for a walk. It’s going rather pathetically if he’s the one to judge. He voices that thought and Techno agrees. He usually does. They read, he and Tubbo and Techno and sometimes Phil, when he isn’t stress cooking or stress cleaning or stress flying out or outright pacing. When he’s pacing Techno tells him to stop. He does. 

The next day Niki is here with fresh bread, an ominous smile and a newfound knowledge of rehabilitation. Where she’s got it from Wilbur does not know. It turns out quickly enough that when Techno and Tubbo are farming and leading countries and whatever else, Niki is not enough to support him limping. The day after that Niki shows up with cookies, a grin and Eret.

.


	3. gather your wits and family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired. I wrote it during school. This work is, since now, gifted, because I wouldn't write that if it weren't for that one comment. Fight me.
> 
> Also, I think you'll enjoy this one. Next one not so sure.

.

**E** ret, as it turns out, is not only enough to support his weigh but also understands him very well, most of the time even without words. It’s not that much surprising, they _were_ best friends not even that long ago, it just feels like decades. People hanging around eye them suspiciously every time he looks their way. 

One time during his wobbling around the house his legs shut of midway through the living room. Eret is quick to catch him and lifts him upright. Wilbur then stands for a minute with his face buried in Eret’s shoulder and regains his breath. When he straightens, his eyes lock with Niki’s – she’s watching them with grand curiosity. He’s tired, and his _sane_ , and he’ll have none of that. So he snaps.

“We’re friends, alright? After all this time, you all expect me to be angry at him? No, I am not. I’m unstable, not stupid.” She seems to ponder it for a bit, and he hates it, but then she nods with a very serious expression and just smiles, the small Niki smile he’s missed so much. It’s alright after that. The mood in the room seems to lift and if they notice a less amount of stares all around, it is nobody’s business but Niki’s, they decide.

It’s a week after Wilbur woke up and he’s moving around well enough. They suppose it’s due to his general lack of injury, he just needs to get used to the body again. He finds it funny and he says so. Eret agrees, so does Tubbo. Techno doesn’t.

He’s left to walk on his own under Niki’s strict instructions to go outside twice a day at least; she also suggests after a week he starts running. He’s commanded to use his communicator if at any point he needs help. 

When he walks out that evening, he finds Fundy sitting at the edge of L’man-hole, looking at horizon lost in thought. Wilbur sits thirty feet away from him. His shoulders tense anyway, he clenches his fists to avoid his hands shaking. Wilbur keeps his eyes away. Fifteen minutes later Fundy can’t handle it anymore, shifts into a fox and scurries away. Wilbur sighs.

Next day he takes over cooking duty and, although Phil protests at first, Will’s cooking is considerably tastier than nearly anyone else’s and they hadn’t had a chance to eat that well since the beginning of L’manburg. Phil leaves then, starts coming back to his own life. Dinner that night is better than they’ve imagined. Techno is assigned washing duty and Will shooed out of the door for his evening walk. He goes around all the paths he remembers (there is, frankly, not many left) and half of those he doesn’t, before he settles in his place near L’man-hole. Fundy is sitting in the same spot by the tree Wilbur silently narrates as his and is as unmoving as a rock. It’s 15 minutes and 34 seconds; Fundy leaves, tense and quick, but he does so as a boy, on his own two legs. Wilbur counts that as a win. 

The day after is similar. Wilbur sits closer. It is now 28 feet, and 28 minutes before Fundy rushes away. He’ll take that.

It’s Sunday and when Fundy was small Wilbur would spend with him all day, cuddled on the couch in the morning, exploring the city during the day and sipping warm white tea late into the evening. He sits 24 feet away. Fundy stands up not even a minute after. He doesn’t blame him. 

On Monday it’s 20 feet and half an hour, so it’s alright, he thinks. Tuesday it’s 20 feet, a guitar and three songs. He sings “The drug in me is reimagined”. He sings “Deeper conversation”. Fundy scoffs. He sings “I’ll be good”. 

It’s Wednesday when he hears from George and Sapnap. They visited Dream. They come back with eyes and knuckles equally red. He thinks he understands – he wants to beat the bastard, too. But he promised himself he’ll cause no more pain. He thinks he’s done enough. Dream’s done enough. He thinks he’s contributed to Dreams madness as much as he did to his. He sits 14 feet away from Fundy, because he craves company and hates odd numbers and he must be radiating bad vibes, since Fundy breaks his unspoken rule of never looking his way to eye him up and down.

It’s Thursday and almost an hour with Fundy. Friday , 10 feet and a sunset. It’s Saturday and they sit, distanced, but closer then in a long time, it’s only 5 feet apart. They watch the sun set and sky dim into a blanket of darkness. They watch this sky and Wilbur wordlessly points out constellations. Big, small. Cassiopeia. Orion. Perseus.

It’s Sunday and Wilbur almost breaks. He feels useless, he feels guilty, he feels like he’s wasting time. Yes, he cooks, he helps, he builds, he talks to Sapnap and Bad and Sam (Oh god, that one has it hard) and Ranboo and all the people he can think of and some more, but it’s not enough. He gets up, midway through peeling a potato, ignores Techno’s questioning gaze and goes for a run. He runs for and hour, away and away, through the forest, then walks back nearly two. He’s run fucking far. He’s done running. He collapses near L’man-hole in late afternoon, supported by a random tree growing near the cliff. He thinks it might be Fundy’s one. He’s not sure, he’s brain is hazy, thoughts thick as molasses.

He’s not sure how long he’s there. When he hears footsteps behind his back he doesn’t turn. There’s no need to. He should be happy, he knows he should. He isn’t. Fundy sighs and knocks twice on the branch over his head. Wilbur’s eyes widen a friction. He’s been forgiven. Fundy shifts into a fox and wraps around his shoulders. They watch the sunset together.

They don’t talk.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of world mechanics explaining to do after fox boy's apperance here, but I'm doing that later in a comment so as not to break an aesthetic. Deal with it.
> 
> The last chapter was titled "befriend Fundy" in my worksheet but I didn't, in fact, do that, so this one is saved as "actually, befriend him now." I thought I'd share that.
> 
> Love you all, please take care.


	4. They'll hold you still, won't let you fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.boredpanda.com/husband-wife-love-language/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic  
> if fundy confuses you by the end, check out the link.
> 
> anyway, you can say how stressed I am, this is my third update in span of 24 hours. Probably not the last. If it goes on like this I'll finish this story by the end of the week, or update 200 chapters a month. I might also dissapeare and never come back.
> 
> as for now, speedrun those chapters, baby.
> 
> TW: this is basicly a panic attac chapter. there's a lot of swearing, too.

.

It’s all wrong. It’s so cold. Too hot. He’s sweating. His forehead is wet and sticky. His cheeks are, too. He thinks he might be crying.

It was all looking up. Him and Fundy were nearing the speaking terms. Phil is back to functioning like a living human. Techno doesn’t bring him into random hugs just to check he’s still alive anymore. He walks, he runs, he’s ready to move. Probably in better shape than he was during Pogtopia if he’s being fully honest. Tubbo is nearly good, his eyes aren’t even that swollen and bagged. Wilbur thinks he’s found hope again. Good. Niki and Eret swing by every other day, there’s always someone in the house, Sam is tending to Dream, and he’s exhausted all the time, but Wilbur knows Puffy holds him close each evening before they say their goodbyes. And he knows they’re tired but happy. He sees Ranboo and Fundy fool around. For god’s sake, he’s caught George _smiling_ yesterday.

He should feel better. He does not.

There’s so much he should be doing, so why doesn’t he? He’s fucked up. He hurt everyone. He _blew up_ their home and his country. He’s broken all the promises he made. He’s a disappointment. Let down his brother, let down his _son_ , left Techno all alone and he knows it hurt, he’s not dumb. He made Phil _pierce him with a sword, for fuck’s sake._ Jesus fuck. He really shouldn’t be brought back. He doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve them, he should have given Phil the letter, admitted he fucked up and left finding Tommy- Tom, that is – to the people that actually cared about him. The tiny voice in his head says they don’t care, either; that they hurt him, too. The voice can fuck right off.

He was sitting with Eret and Niki, they were talking, and he zoned out. He can’t bring himself to care. He does. He feels fucking guilty.  
When he starts crying in the middle of her explaining a new cake recipe Niki is, from lack of better words, terrified. She thought it was looking up, she helped, and she knows Will was doing better, she’s confused. Eret is not. He shoos her away to go get Techno. So, get him she does. She sees Eret wrap one arm around Will’s shoulders and start to murmur in a low, quiet tone. She turns on her heel and marches straight into the mines where she knows Phil’s working with his son and Fundy. When and why they began to speak again she doesn’t know.

Eret holds him and talks to him and is so reassuring it almost calms him down. “I’m not going to say it’s not your fault, I’m not willing to lie, not anymore. I know how you feel, I’ve been there, most of us have been there, even if it’s not on such a grand scale. We’ve all been through war, we’ve all betrayed the trust of those we loved at some point, in some way. It’s a difficult time. You need to realize, though, you’ve been forgiven. You’ve been forgiven by most. I’m sure Niki forgave you as soon as she saw your body.” Wilbur scoffs at that. “You’re safe, and you’re healing, and you’re fixing things. Just the fact you are willing to means you deserve it all. We’ll help you; we’ll go find your brother.” 

Wilbur isn’t calmed at all. Don’t get him wrong, Eret’s voice is soothing and calming and everything nice, but he’s too deep in his head for it to help. He wonders briefly if his voice can do that, too; if he actually used to help his boys when they cried. Or maybe he was always useless. Just like now.

“I’m a fucking prick.” He chokes out.

“That you are.” Eret confirms and Wilbur laughs, loud and hysteric, and goes back to crying right after.

He’s hands are fuzzy. He’s heart feels weird. He can breathe, but the short gasps his body allows him to take in annoy him, so he stops. Eret almost gets all concerned, but Techno bursts into the room, Niki on his heels. They can hear Phil in the kitchen.

Eret uncurls from around him, exposing him to the room and he hates it, but he keeps one of his arms steady on Wilbur’s shoulders. Will doesn’t complain. Techno takes over the speaking duty – he doesn’t assure, he distracts. Wilbur is grateful. Niki sits on the floor with her head propped up on her crossed arms, leaning onto the bed, one hand on his knee. Phil walks into the room and hands him a steaming cup of chamomile. Behind him is _Fundy_. He doesn’t step into the room though, just hovers in the entrance. 

The cup is too hot, it burns his fingers. He is glad. He wonders if Phil’s aware.  
He takes a few sips and pretends he’s not nauseous. When the memory hits him, he needs to choke down a sob.

Sometime during Techno’s rant Tubbo comes back. He doesn’t comment on the scene, just wraps his arms around Fundy who’s now leaning on the doorframe with most of his bodyweight. Wilbur wonders why they don’t sit.

Phil leans from his chair beside Techno and exchanges his now empty teacup for a glass of cold water. It’s a strange feeling, the change of temperatures. Wilbur likes it. 

They stay like this until Techno runs out of words and Wilbur runs out of tears (and the others run out of patience, he thinks but doesn’t say). Phil sighs then, claps his hands on his thighs and lifts himself up. “Well, I think it’s our cue to leave. Get some sleep.” he says, soft as ever. Techno agrees. They pick up the cups and leave, presumably to talk their night away seated on the kitchen counter. 

Eret squeezes his shoulder and gets up. Niki gets up and kisses his forehead. They promise to come check on him tomorrow. They leave. Fundy goes with them. Before he does, though, they lock eyes. He holds his father’s gaze as he knocks on the doorframe three times. Wilbur’s shoulders melt. He turns around and leaves.

Tubbo stays.

Tubbo wraps his arms around him and guides him until they lay down, just like Wilbur did to him when they were kids. Him and Tommy. A few more tears try to fall, but Tubbo dries them off with his sleeve. He hugs Wilbur close. 

Wilbur thinks that this boy is right on top of the list of things he doesn’t deserve. He kisses the top of his head anyway. He hugs Tubbo closer.

.


	5. You'll go together through it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's an unusual time today, since it's not after midnight and not my school hours. It's a normal person living hour. That's how much care i put into this chapter. I'm making a map in ms paint, it will be attached sometime into this story (or not. I'm not yet sure how. In fact, I have no idea how.)
> 
> It's adventure time :)
> 
> Also I love kudo messages, y'all's names crack me up (I'm looking at you, booping_the_snoot.) I love you all.

.

**N** iki comes by the next morning as promised. They sit around the table once again, discuss the ‘plan’ once again. They settle a date. They’re starting out Saturday, not even a day later. They can’t wait any longer. Tommy’s family won’t take it, Niki or Eret can’t take it, Tubbo cannot take it. Wilbur deffineatly won’t.

They inform their closest friends of the departure. The news will be passed to other people, they always are in such small communities. They announce a feast on Friday as a goodbye party – it was obvious from the start, wherever it is that Tommy went is sure as hell as far as humanly possible. Rushing out to find him they are, of course, hopeful (they have to be) but they’re not naïve. There’s a long journey awaiting them. 

And so, the plans are set into motion.

Tubbo and Fundy are to travel East, where there is the least amount of land to search through. It’s also the way Tommy’s been exiled. Techno points out that last time they saw Tommy they weren’t on the best of terms. They ask Ranboo to come with. He agrees, because of course he does. That causes a problem of another chair being needed at the table. There is no more space around said table. And, frankly, no more chairs in the house. Ranbo sits on the floor with a loud thud and scoffs at them to continue. (To be honest, he’s not much shorter that way than Tubbo is sitting in his chair. Tubbo does not find that funny.)

Eret and Niki are going West. There’s a bigger patch of land there. Tubbo, as a president needs to be back in L’manburg as soon as possible (as much as he despises the idea). The boys will search their assigned terrain and come back, Tubbo to his duties, Ranboo and Fundy to catch up with Eret. Niki will return then, a destined healer. She’ll work in L’maanburg but be ready to rush out at any given time if the news of any of the groups being in danger reach her.

Techno and Phil will go up North. They live in the cold land anyway, and are the only ones capable of seeking through unforgiving, looming mountains that stretch to the horizon after you’ve reached the end of the biome. Phil’s wings and Techno’s durability with their brute strength combined allow them to explore almost completely safely.

Wilbur’s going South. It’s warm, not dangerous and a most likely place to run to. There’s not a lot of cities (those are mostly somewhere east. There are no towns west, small villages only. There’s one big city at the end of snow biome, just under the mountain side) but a lot of smaller villages. It’s safer (people there are not fond of crime; about big cites you can’t say the same) and generally a good place to blend in.  
They don’t want to allow him to go alone but he reasons, and if there’s one thing they’ve learnt from war it’s that you can’t argue with Wilbur, not really. “It’s a gift” he says. (“It’s a carefully trained skill that guarantees survival” he doesn’t.) They all have lives and jobs and homes to come back to – he’s left this all behind. He only came back to fix things he fucked up, he can’t do this without Tom there. If he needs to search for the rest of his life, he will. 

“You need to fix us, too, don’t forget.”, Fundy says. ”You can not go on your own and die.” The ‘ you can’t break this promise again’ stays unspoken.

“That’s why I won’t die.” He simply says. Fundy knows this expression. He believes him.

They let Wilbur go alone.

They spend next four days preparing. Technoblade is sharpening swords, Phil preparing bundles. They pack, sort through weapons, prepare food. People come by to give them their blessings and all things possibly necessary. Sapnap brings flashlights. Bad enchants charms to assure protection from mobs. Punz and Purpled swing by and give Tubbo their tips on making tool handles as durable and comfortable as possible. They look flimsy at first glance, but are the best craftsmanship Wilbur’s ever seen.

Sam goes to inform Dream of their departure and comes back with four shining, black compasses enchanted to point straight to the middle of L’manburg. Dream created them from thin air.

“Can’t he do that to create tools that’ll help him escape?” Techno asks.

“He wouldn’t be able to escape.”, Sam responds. “But yes, he can”. Dream doesn’t.

Friday evening the whole SMP is in the White House’s dining room. It’s Wilbur’s cooking, Niki’s bread, Techno’s potatoes, Phil’s tea with Tubbo’s honey and all the things citizens brought. There’s music and singing and all their friends. A lot of hugs and whispered ‘good luck’s and ‘good bye’s. A lot of compliments on Puffy’s chocolate cake, too.

They exchange stories and bask in the familiarity of being together. Phil speaks of his youth’s adventures, strange mobs and small hacks on curing the flu. Ranboo scribbles in his notebook all the time. Boys laugh. Allysa and Ponk stand in a corner unsurely at first but are quickly enough ushered to join the party. It’s like a family gathering, something they haven’t experienced in a long time. Wilbur wonders if the strangest thing about the whole ordeal is the fact that they’re at peace for once or the fact that Quackity still has a shirt on. He concludes it’s the latter.

Somewhere in the middle of Sapnap’s lively story, about that one time he and Karl went hunting and got stuck in jungle lianas for a day, accompanied by wild gesturing and an ungodly amount of onomatopoeic sounds, Sam abruptly stands up looking mildly panicked.

“I forgot to feed Dream.” He stutters. “Like, whole day.” The room instantly goes quiet. Then they all laugh. 

Allysa and Puffy get a plateful of food in _miliseconds_ and hand it to Sam. “Go chuck it at the bastard, I’m feeling especially nostalgic today.”, the girl informs. “I’d say he doesn’t deserve this but it _is_ true that he’s the one that brought us together.”

And no one protests.

When Sam comes back he informs them that Dream laughed. It’s a first time he did in a long, long time. Wilbur can’t find it in himself to be glad. Not yet. Maybe never. (Not yet.)

Next morning, they pick they stuff up and walk onto the hill over L’manburg. This is it. That’s when the search starts. They tuck on their jackets, cloaks and capes. They put backpacks on and fasten their belts. They tie they shoes, fidget with their keys, dust off their pants, Eret goes as far as to wipe his sunglasses, and where there is nothing more to clank on, tug on, correct or attach, there is nothing more to distract them. They settle for a last round of goodbyes.

Phil goes around hugging them all, exchanges a polite smile with Niki and puts a hand on his son’s shoulder. Techno nods and settles on a long speech, checking everyone’s equipment, safety precautions and revising the emergency protocol. When he’s done, he takes out four thick, leather gloves and tosses them around to Ranboo, Eret and Will. He puts on the last one and whistles loudly.

“Those,” he informs ” are my messenger crows. Most people use pigeons, but these are dumb, slow and no fun to be with in general. Some prefer eagles, but those are always hungry. I had my letters splotched with mouse blood one too many times. Not to mention they won’t stop themselves from ducking in the snow and get the papers wet and inlegable. I used to tend to owls, back in arctic, and as much as I’m fond of them they are lazy little shits and won’t do on long distances. “He opts to criticize other species instead of praising his birds, but he’s very fond of them, if the small smile on his face as the crow sitting on his arm buries it’s head in his hand is anything to go by. It lets out a loud ‘crack’ and Techno chuckles.  
“Aene, calm.” He commands. “Helen. Iphy. That’s Agat.” He points to each bird. They all nod. The crows do, too.

They prepare to separate. Wilbur kisses Niki’s forehead. She trips him, and when he plops with no grace to the ground, she does the same to him. They laugh.

Wilbur holds Tubbo for a long time and with his chin propped on boy’s head he watches Niki hug Ranboo, Phil patting his head.

“Dad” Fundy says.  
“Son.”  
“Stay safe. Promise me you’ll stay safe.” He begs.  
“I will. You are to wear your hat and zip your hoodies all the way up, you rascal. Understood?” he says, and it is _president voice_ yet again. Fundy nods and giggles. Wilbur smiles. They hug, tight like Wilbur hasn’t held him in years. “My champion. My big little champion” he whispers into his son’s shoulder.   
“My emotionally unstable fuckup dumpster fire of a father” Fundy responds with no spite. They all laugh. It feels good. It’s time.

They stand back, backs straight and heads high. Hopes high. And as if he weren’t a king but again a soldier, promising his general a successful mission, Eret salutes.  
“Alright company!” Wilbur shouts. “You will message about your progress once each week or as soon as you receive a response when we wander further away into the land. You will stay safe and healthy. You will follow the plan to a tee. There is 8 of us departing now. I want to see all eight of us back. I want to see nine of us back!” They all nod with great seriousness. “Dismissed!” he exclaims and salutes.

He waits until they all salute back. After a round of “Sir, yes sir!” he turns on his heel and treks into the woods, Agat looming over his head. He will find his brother. He will.

.


	6. There are some things that hold you back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! Sorry for slowing down my update-pace. It will be like that, probably. My favourite adventure fics aren't updating tho, so I'm writing to feel that space. If you have any adventure prompts feel free to leave them in the comments, it may satisfy your needs and give my ideas to chase away my writer's block.
> 
> I wrote one sentance throughout whole wednesday and "aye aye, capitan!" yesterday. World record pace, babay.
> 
> The temparature went from - 14 to nearly 20 'C in not much longer than a week and I'm struggling. It's 28 degrees in my house. I liked it cold much more. Y'all's names still crack me up though, thank you for kudos<3
> 
> Also this 'chapter' short af so you have some world explaining in the end notes.

___

Hey, mate.

It’s one week in, time for our first report, huh? I feel weird thinking of you as general, I haven’t really known you as such… And we didn’t really talk since you’ve been back. Ghosbur wasn’t the best person to discuss it with, either. But I guess that’s a topic for when we’re all in L’manburg again. 

We have news; news that are both good and a bit mortifying… We’re back home in the arctic and Techno found some stuff missing. After closer inspection he found a dug-in room in a basement wall. He came back to me muttering very angrily about raccoon children living under his house and being ungrateful. He’s worried, because if it was Tommy (we have no proof, but it’s very Tommy-like. Anyone else would steal what they need and skeedadle, why live under a fucking house? Techno’s house of all? There’s also no real valuables missing. Some food, two stacks of gapples and some potions, mostly health. Sounds like a starved, injured person, doesn’t it?) it means he went here for help and didn’t find it. We weren’t here for him yet again (I have a feeling that even if Techno had been home Tom wouldn’t reach out to him.)

But it means he can’t be that far. Of course, he does travel faster than a normal person but only slightly so. We’ll find him. Although he does hate cold and might only have taken a detour through here for supplies, we at least have some trace, we hope.

Take care, Will.  
Philza

___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, first of all, SBI are bological fam here.
> 
> I don't feel like doing all the 'hybrid' shit because... I mean, fucking animals? Nah bro, not doing this.
> 
> That's why we're doing genetics. We've got shapeshifters and humans, alright? Now, Shapeshifters can be strong or weak. Strong shifter is a recessive allele and weak is Dominant. Human is = with weak. 
> 
> There are 3 forms of shifters. Human, animal and between. the type of animal/mob you can shift into is based on your individual traits (eg. Sally was a salmon, quick and 'slimy', read unreliable. Fundy is smart and fast with his conclusions, thus he's a fox.)[smelling a jojo reference here]
> 
> Strong shifters can vary between the forms to their wish. They also grow up fast as fuck. Like, up until what is an equivalent to human 10 years, they grow basicly 5 years at a time. The days feel for them like much longer up to 10th (second?) birthday, which is, unsuprisingly, first birthday they really celebrate. That leaves them also a bit more, not childlish, but in need of support and relying on their friends and parents for some time. That's why Fundy's affected by Wilbur's mistakes so much. It also explains the age diferences being so fricking small (Fundy's fifteen here, i think? Honestly time is mushed here. what count's is that it's Tommy's 16th birthday when he runs. Wilbur is 24, so is Techno because half of the fandom likes the twin hc). It's confusing, but have you seen the canon i have to work with?
> 
> Phil is a strong shifter and goes by age 32 because he denies being fourty. He doesn't feel like it, so everyone goes with it because he's a good pal so why wouldn't they?. Boys' mother was human and died during Tommy's birth (because I don't feel like doing a sappy ilness backstory, tbh). They are Weak shifters.
> 
> eg. S+S genes = s shifter  
>  W+S genes = w shifter  
> W+H = H or w shifter  
> H + S = H 
> 
> Mother Minecraft had W/H genes and passed the weak allele on all of her sons. Weak shifters can't, well, shift. They have some cool traits and are prone to magic abilities. Thechno' s hair is naturally pink and ears are pointy, he's stronger than average person. Wilbur sings good as a bird and animals like him a lot (you'll see some of that later:). He's also very light, falls slightly slower so if he trips or shit he's less likely to get hurt. Tommy can fit into spaces smaller than he should be able to (but it's not often used 'cause claustrofobia) and has really good hearing. Also walks ever so slightly faster than normal ;) Thay're all W/S so their children could turn out as anything, really.
> 
> Ranboo's a Weak shifter and has hic cannon abilities:)
> 
> Puffy and Ant are strong, Sam is weak, so are Bad, Eret and Sapnap.
> 
> As for last names, Tommy and Will changed theirs when they left home. Tommy to Innit, because it was funny and Wilbur to Soot in honor of his friends he, well, abandoned? If they heard about a General from the capital called Wilbur Soot they would recognize him. As for Technoblade he doesn't use a last name because he doesn't want to side with any of his family members, he loves them all very much. He wouldn't admit that, though.
> 
> Dream is a god and a king/protector of this world. Wilbur tried to fight for independance because he used his power a bit too much one time. They were good friends befor that and it broke them both. Dream would materialise food or supplies if there was famine or a disaster somewhere and the villages reached out to him. Sam would still allow him to contact them from jail. When he was younger he cared a lot for his people and traveled through his lands helping where he could, that's also how he and Phil orginally met. He and Drista, who has her own world(It was their parents' back then) and visits very rarely, were invited to supper and made friends with Will very fast. Tommy and Drista met again in L'manburg and acted as it was a first time because well, they were lil as hell back then.
> 
> I think that's all? Ask if you don't understand. This is longer then two of today's chapters combined. I have no more notes' characters left.  
> love you!


	7. And some that help you to move on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, i don't know what to put here since the rant i left a chapter back so ughh, check out the chapter titles? Also I need to stop procrastinating learning attaching images (and maybe sounds? o_o)

.

**T** he first weeks are easy. He walks through the woods he knows like the back of his hand (even if after all this time dead his hands don’t always look so familiar), checks places he remembers exploring with Tommy, then places near those places. Then places he didn’t know were there. But there are landmarks he recognizes, paths he studied and ran through, some paths he helped build. It’s peaceful. He thinks he’ll grow frustrated after some time.

He knows nooks he can hide in at night. It keeps him safe and he can sleep somewhat peacefully. He reads the letters and writes back. He wonders how long it’ll take for guilt to catch up. He ignores the thoughts and cuts down a branch that blocks his way. 

He kicks stones and eats cold food from his rations. Warming them up would be a waste of time. He doesn’t expect to find Tommy this month, he was a general for god’s sake, he’s not that optimistic, but the faster the better. Give it 12 weeks, maybe? Half a year from now they will be all safe home, in L’manburg. Surely. Tommy’ll come back to Dream locked up and family gathered, ready to help him. They will not fail him again. He will not fail again.

He searches between bushes and trees to find something, anything. When his legs hurt and his eyes drop and his lungs start to give up, he lays down and watches clouds from between the tree branches. He uses leaves for pillows and gets pricked by needles. It reminds him of the time he was seventeen, out in the woods all the time, composing his little songs and singing in taverns in nearby villages. He thinks of his hometown and how he will have to look through it. Maybe ask old friends he left behind with no warning all those years ago. He knows he’s going to knock on the door of his own house, the old family home abandoned the moment Phil left to help them. Oh, how well did that go.

It’s the most probable place Tommy would go, they reason, but Wilbur knows he didn’t. He knows his brother better than anyone. If he ran away he’ll be as away as possible. Tommy… Tom, he corrects himself. Tom wouldn’t feel safe there anymore. For now it’s best to hope the house wasn’t robbed or broken into. It’s not likely, he recalls the townsfolk being always nice, but the time’s passage tends to change people.

He falls asleep with the thoughts of home clouding his head. He wakes up with dark masses of water clouding the sky. And a slug on his face. He spends the morning speed walking to a nearby small lake and bathes as the warm droplets start falling from above. His face gets scrubbed extra hard. The ex-general might be on good terms with blood, ash and soot; his clothes used to be covered in gore and dirt all the time, but that is in the past and if he can avoid the slug, slug avoid he will.

___

Aye aye, captain!

We are two weeks into our journey and still going strong! No hindrances so far. Traveling with three people turns out to be both efficient and comfortable. We aren’t getting bored or falling asleep while walking, so that’s a plus. Ranboo’s height allows him to see far away over rocks and ~~shit~~ stuff but prevents him from writing in terrain, therefore I’m the one to report for now. ( **agreed. They tried to make me a destined letter-writer but hands too long, head too high. Sorry.** )

Anyway, there being the three of us allows to search trough with great speed and probably not miss any signs. Although, we haven’t seen any yet. It’s also safer. _And you are still alone so stay safe and write often, even just one sentence to let us know you’re alright, thank you._ We’re thinking that after we’re through the well known places we’ll nether travel to the Logsted portal and search on our way back. It’ll save some more time and let them reach Eret sooner. Also better to start from the place where his run began, isn’t it? 

Ranboo’s got obsidian on him, so it won’t be a problem. We’re now making a camp for the night and Fundy’s starting his calculations to triangulate our way onto Logsted netherpath. We should be able to move from the overworld in about two weeks. Do we have your permission?

Company 3,  
Tubbo, _Fundy_ , **Ranboo**

___

Boys,  
I’m glad you’re travelling safe and promise I’m watching my back. Sorry that I can’t write more but there’s nothing to say when I’m alone in the woods and have found no signs so far whatsoever. 

The nether travel idea is brilliant, I’m surprised we haven’t thought of that sooner. Of course you can.   
I’m glad you don’t let Ranboo strain his back too much, it’d be a shame if we needed to waste time because of something highly preventable. 

Stay safe,  
Wilbur

.


	8. Some of them'll give you a heart attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for I was gone long! 
> 
> I intended to post at least once a week I hope it wasn't longer than that. I didn't abandon this, though! I wrote two big plot chapters that are set quite far off into the future and have ideas planned for 3-4 more. We'll also get a little POV changes. Why? Because I want:) Do you want?
> 
> Here, have this:  
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1R3qQcdMvb_0mnW1RUIlj6HiTI6pd8jia/view
> 
> it is completly shitty and pixelated and took me three days. Tell me if I'm leaking anything else than the picture, because I totally might be.
> 
> I needed to re-read this whole work and found hella lot of typos, mostly. Do I care? Yes. Will I fix? Prolly not, to be honest. Sorru:( I don't have anyone who would beta (The one friend I could burden with that I'm already asking a lot of, she's basicly keeping me passing school rn) and I like posting as soon as I finish a chapter too much to wait for someone to check it. Enjoy! (kinda short but I'llgive you more soon)

___

_So, uh, hi dad._

_I know my writing is terrible, but we’ll have to make do. We’re out of the nether, finally. We had… minor issues during our journey. So, skipping that, don’t worry, we definitely didn’t run out of water midway through. But we did encounter a ghast what led us to run quite carelessly. Tubbo fell a bit, we were shocked and confused and reacted so slowly we even had time to wonder if he died in lava. It was just a few meters, though. His arm is broken, for sure. We just got out of the portal, Ranboo’s making camp in what remains of Logstedshire. What do we do now?_

_Fundy_ , **Ranboo** ,

####  _TOOB_

___

Oh my god, are you boys alright?

I’m sending Agat straight to Niki, which is what you should have done with Aene in first place?? God, why did I think sending kids together was a good idea? How is Tubbo? Let him sleep, don’t move him, but first you need Ranboo to set the bone back into place. Please do, I don’t want you to have to rebreak it. You can camp there for however long you need to.

You are terrible companions.

___

_Dad,_

_Thank you, we appreciate your reassurance. I knew you were a shitty father, but an injured, panicked kid could use some warm words in a situation like that._

_Just joking, we’re good. Ranboo did that right away and it should be good. Niki’s sending us small vials of potions with Helen. That bird is insufferable, she tried to chomp of my ear!_ **He’s exaggerating. She barely pecked him. We’re good though, Will. Don’t worry.** _Yeah right, we are! Oh, also. We found the Trent sign in the rubble; we’re taking it back home. ___

___Take care and we’ll also do that._  
 _Fundy_ , **Boo**_ _

__

______ _

__

__Hello, Will!_ _

__Eret and I are halfway through the woods already. We didn’t really do breaks so we’re taking one now. It’s easier for me to brew and mix this way. Don’t worry about your boys, they’ll be fine. Are you fine, though?_ _

__Niki_ _

__

______ _

__

__Dee,  
you’re going to be the death of me._ _

__Thank you Ranboo for not being as chaotic as the other two, I appreciate your words._ _

__One of you, give Bubs a big hug from me. Don’t squish him much, though._ _

__Wilbur_ _

__

______ _

__

__**Hi!** _ _

__**I don’t really remember what I said but you’re welcome. Hug was delivered, one to Fundy as well. Dee? Does he get annoyed as Dee? Can I call him that?** _ _

__**Tubbo’s healing well. Doesn’t even seem so tired anymore. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of your chaos children.** _ _

__**Boo.** _ _

__

______ _

__

__Hi Ranboo,_ _

__I’m sensing mischief. I would scold you but you’re on break, so not really my problem. Yes, he gets very embarrassed at Dee. I didn’t tell you this. Hush. If he asks Tommy did, he can’t blame the guy that no one knows where is._ _

__Thank you for being slightly less chaotic._ _

__Wilbur Watson-Soot_ _

__

______ _

__

___FATHER YOU TELL HIM THAT AND HAVE THE AUDACITY TO CALL **ME** A TRAITOR? DON’T TALK TO ME. Also, you took Watson again? Does that mean I can, too?_ _ _

___NOT DEE_ _ _

__

______ _

__

__Heya mate,_ _

__Me again. How are you? Seriously. Don’t ignore me this time. We’re good, actually._ _

__We’ve searched through all of the arctic biome, the fact that there wasn’t a snowstorm in over a month helps a lot. We’re staying in the city for the next god knows how log it takes to look through it. Techno’s happy. It’s good to see him anything else than miserable. When he can’t walk anymore or we’ve finished or our tracks for the day he buries himself in library books and pretends he sleeps at night when I ask him in the morning. Alas for him, I can’t sleep either. He doesn’t need to know, though;)_ _

__Report back, son.  
Philza_ _

__

______ _

__

__Dad,_ _

__I’m sorry I ignored you or whatever, I wasn’t feeling the best to be honest. But I don’t think the guilt has caught up yet so it’s not that bad. I’m glad Techno’s doing better. Is he eating, though? You Know how he gets… And go to sleep, both of you._ _

__I’ve still got nothing. Tommy just… evaporated, it seems. No signs from anyone. Muffined raccoon._ _

__Take care, love you,  
Will_ _

__

______ _

__

___Will_ _ _

___It’s me this time, it seems. I have no idea what old man and you are talking about behind my back but I’m totally, completely fine and do not care about the child in the slightest. He is indeed a raccoon child and he is not missed. As for my eating habits what is that supposed to imply? They’re completely fine and need no change at all._ _ _

___… If you insist, though, I can try to eat more. Also, Phil doesn’t sleep? I promise to make him._ _ _

___Thank you, Will. You know._ _ _

___I don’t love you at all._ _ _

___Technoblade_ _ _

__

______ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll edit it as much as i need too for this formating to look right.


	9. And some will make you strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! I'm writing quite a lot, really, please believe me, but it's all the later chapters. I have some bangers, though!
> 
> I've been feeling like failing an awful lot lately, so I focused first on the ideas I have, not to force these out just for them to be... you know, bad.  
> But we're coming closer to big events:)
> 
> I'll see how much i'll come up with today and tomorrow and maybe we'll have a marathon of a chapter everyday for, like, a week.  
> Enjoy! <3

.

**T** he guilt catches up. It begins slowly. It's harder to sleep in the night. He blames it on the fact that he's in foregin terrain amd the need to protect himself from mobs. 

Then he gets distracted. He backtracks to check a few trees he passed deep in thought about the war times. He passes it as being away from people. His thoughts started to wander because he hasn't talked to anyone in a while, right? Right?

Then come the nightmares. The little time he sleeps there are bloody images painted on the backs of his eyelids, these of war, fire and death, so much death he doesn't sleep anymore, so as not to witness his loved ones be ~~pierced smashed shattered stabbed ripped cut set aflame broken~~ hurt anymore. 

With that, of course, comes exhaustion. He deems it a cold. He's cought a cold when he bathed in a too cold river two days ago. (That one might not actyally be so far from the truth.)

Then comes neusea. It's the point when the signals prove to be difficult to ignore, but somehow he menages. He's proud. (His father wouldn't be.) He stumbles and falls but pushes through, he looses track of where he is a few time but the map is useful and he knows how to use the map, he learnt how to use a map when he was eight, didn't he? 

His eyes are glossed over, ears and throat filled with cotton to the point where he doesn't exactly take in his surroundings. It's a miracle he moves, by mere chance, towards the near village. His senses are dull and straight up useless, he doesn't notice the group of people searching for mushrooms in the thick forest. They notice him, though.

In all honesty it's difficult to not notice a 6,5 man with a backpack so big and torn he must've been walking for months tripping over roots with all the grace of a newly born deer. 

They approach him slowly, as if he could, just as a wild deer, be startled by a too fast movement. And maybe that's a good move on their part. The man is in fact too busy running a fewer to be even mildly responsive, but it's difficult not to notice the sword on his hip and the bow on his back. He's not a seller, for there are not many items but not a normal traveller also. A typical person would only carry one wepon of one kind they specialize in, for defence and hunting. If the man has two in his possesion, not only can he use both of them but it would probably be his instant instinct to first attack, then ask questions. And for god's sake, they're here for mushrooms. Didn't exactly look to get themselves killed.

They talk in hushed tones, but soon realize he's so out of it it doesn'r really make a diference and go back to thair normal volume. They watch his hands as the oldest of them places his hand on the stranger's shoulder. It wouldn't be good if he were to attack. He doesn't.

He lets them lead him to the village with little protest. The quiet mumbling of looking and blood, othervmwise incoherent, is slightly concering but they decide to cross that bridge when they get there. The man is lead to one of their houses, by the time they make it supported on both sides. The housewife opens the door and raises her eyebrows. She lets them in. 

The men leave then to their affairs, tall stranger alone with a woman vigorously shaking her head and clicking her tounge in disapproval. She calls loudly for her daughters and listens to the tumbling footsteps coming from the stairs. The girls barrel into the room and upon seing a tall, thin stranger, they look equally as baffled.

"Believe me, girls, I know as little as you do. Your father and friend found him alone in the woods." She offers as an explenation. "They thought he looked drunk and left him here to sober up until morning."

"Mama, father's looking more drunk every other evening than this man is right now. Isn't he sick?" The taller girl asks resolutely.

"He is, Kya. That's why we need to help him."

"Can he stay until he's better? Dad won't be home 'til next weekend anyway. He can't just go! Look at 'im, does this guy even know what's going on?" The smaller girl rambles.

"Let's hope not, because if he does you're being awfully impolite." The mother scolds.

"Oh, you're right, mama! Hello! I don't know if you can hear me, mister... uh... you're all dirty and stuff, I'll call you mister Soot! My name is Maya and we'll get you better!" She beams at him, and he furrows his brows in confusion, trying to make sense of any of the words.

"Speaking of that, sweetie, get the big bowl and fill up with cold water. Also, a small towel, please." She commands. "Kya, I'm getting a matress, you take of his coat and look after him. Make sure he doesn't die. Well, maybe start from weapons."

The girls nod and tend to given tasks. When the younger runs in the direction of bathroom, Kya pries the man's finhers off his coat and pulls it of his shoulders, the bow and arrows clattering on the ground as the material slips from her hands. She doesn't bother. She immidieately remowes the sword he owns and then she finally feels at ease. Next goes the belt, with so many sloths and sacks and bottles and little pockets attached she thinks she hasn't seen something quite like that even with the repair men that go around with seemingly hundrets of tools.

"Found anything cool?" Her mother asks approaching.

"He might be an intresting guy, when he's coherent enough to hold a conversation." Kya informs. 

Together they lift the man up and lead him to the temporary guest room. He is lowered to the ground and laid down. 

"Shirt off." The woman commands and the brunette unbuttons the garmet as her sister walks into the room, supplies in hand. Their mother wets the cloth, then, and places it firmly onto the man's forehead. He scowls but he's not really concious anymore. She slips of his damaged shirt and can't help but gasp. The girls stare wide-eyed at the maps of scars littering his milky skin.

"He must be an intresting man," Kya summs up after a moment. "Just look; these are burns, those cuts, and here you've got an arrow hit." She points to some of the marks.

They all ignore the long gush running straight over the man's heart.

"No injures, then. No current ones, at least." the woman decides. "It's not an intresting man, I'm afraid. It's a very sad one." The diagnosis is only half correct. They'll learn that soon enough, when the man reclaims his wits.

"Let him sweat it out." Maya decides and is granted with two solemn nods. They cover the stranger with a spare blanket   
and let him be.

.


	10. Interesting things wait on the road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyy, I did menage to write this chapter:)
> 
> Also estimated how long will this work be.  
> Happy late woman's day <3
> 
> If you see a mistake, no you didn't. I haven't slept longer then 4 hours in, like 8 days, I'm not in the right mind.

.

**T** hey stay out of the room to give the man his peace, but when they do keep watch or tend to his fever it’s always in a group, all three women barging in to check on. Maya sits by the bedside and rants about her nine-year-old everyday life, unwilling to call the stranger anything but Mr. Soot, even when he’s considerably cleaner than when he first arrived. The man splutters and mumbles in his sleep sometimes, but it is four full days until he wakes up conscious from it. He looks terrified, tries to begin asking questions but is quickly shut down; forced to eat and led to lie again. He blacks out as soon as his head hits the pillow.

When Wilbur wakes up again his fever is nearly gone, and his confusion only deepens. He doesn’t really know what happened, just that he’s for one, in a house, two – comfortable, three – most probably sick or poisoned if he’s to judge by the burn in his throat or clamminess of his hands; but he quickly disregards the second option – if someone were to poison him, they most likely wouldn’t bother finding a mattress for him; and, for the last, he’s awfully hungry. 

He doesn’t get a chance to think about that, though, because he blinks and suddenly there’s a scowling housewife in the room, holding a wooden spoon in one hand and a cloth in the other. There are two young girls by her side, arms crossed against their chests and matching unimpressed expressions on their faces. 

“You coherent yet, young man?” She asks.

“Yeah. Yes, I think so.” He speaks. He’s surprised his throat doesn’t hurt more from the action. He swallows and _Oh, now it hurts._

“Are you able to stand?”.

“I mean, probably.” He claims.

“Stand, then. Come join us for dinner.” She demands. And she promised food, so who is Wilbur to decline?

“How are you feeling, Mr. Soot?” Asks the youngest, and he freezes. Noticing his wide eyes, the woman sighs and flings the spoon in a general direction of her daughter.

“My apologies. She gave you this… peculiar nickname because of, well, the state of your clothes when you were first introduced.” She explains with a sympathetic smile.

“Oh.” He exclaims, very eloquently. ”Oh. That’s funny, a little bit. It’s” he chuckles. “It’s my actual last name.”

“Is that so?” The woman raises her eyebrows. ”If that’s the case, young man, I think it’s a good time as any other for a proper introduction. I’m Mary Janice and these two troublemakers are, unfortunately, my daughters, Kya and Maya.”

“Wilbur Watson-Soot.” He provides. “If I may ask… What am I, exactly, well, doing here?”

“My husband and his friends found you sick in the woods nearby, we’re in the Smaller Greenwald Village?” he nods. “ You’ve been out of it for four days. Though judging by how you looked back then your memory might have been all fuzzed up for a lot longer than that.”

“What day is it?” he asks.

“Wednesday.” It’s Kya that replies. Wilbur furrows his brows.

“That, in fact, does not help me very much, I’m afraid.” He complains.

“Worry about it later, then. Now, eat up.” She places a steaming bowl of stew in front of him and he smiles his thanks.

When they’re finished there’s a knock on the door and Kya stands up, and smiles. “Cass is here!”

“Put your bowl in the sink.” Her mom reminds, ” Tell Cassandra hi from me. Have fun and don’t bother her parent’s too much.” She smiles.

“Will do.” the girl promises and waves them goodbye before running of with her friend.

“Not fair.” Maya says. ”She gets to go and I don’t?”.

“You could go upstairs and draw?” she supplies.

“Oh!” The girl’s eyes light up. “What would I draw though?”.

“A frog” Wilbur says absentmindedly.

“A… frog?” She asks and Wilbur thinks his idea might not be very appealing.

“Yes.” He says surely. “A frog. With a fork and in a party hat.” He says, solemn, and the girl laughs running off.

When she’s gone her Mary resumes conversation. “Where the hell did that idea come from?” She asks amused.

“Uh, I think I may be feverish still.” He supplies. Then, “Oh.” He covers his eyes with his hand. “Oh, have you maybe got the things I travelled with? Please tell me I didn’t lose them all.”

“No, don’t worry. We’ve got your backpack and, uh, a few weapons?” She informs.

“Oh, good. That’s good. I think I still have at least one health potion in there; I could’ve stopped burdening you probably days ago.” She cocks her head at that.

“And who are you to keep potions on you at all times? Are you a brewer, rich or tend to get yourself in trouble?”.

“Um, all of it a bit?”

“Sorry to assume, but you don’t look exactly wealthy.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself _that_ but I do have access to anything I might need.”

“That leads me to another question. Where are you from?”

“I started my travels in L’manburg.”

“Oh? You’re Wilbur Soot from L’manburg, huh?”

“The rumors go around?” he smiles.

“They go around, yes. I also heard the supposed ex-president general Soot was supposed to be dead?” She cocks an eyebrow.

“Yet here I am, looking rather alive.” She laughs and shrugs.

“Rumors.”

She hands him his bag and after downing a whole potion he feels a lot better but even more drowsy. He’s offered shelter for another night and Wilbur thanks them profusely. In the morning Kya is back and she chatters with him throughout breakfast, Maya beaming at him. He avoids speaking of why he’s been on road and they don’t press. He makes sure to tell Mary how witty well behaved her children are. She smiles at him and packs some bread or him before he leaves.

“I was right mama, he is interesting” Kya muses.

“I hope I stay this way” he laughs.

“Would you take care, _general_ Wilbur Soot?” The woman asks looking him up and down with warm eyes. The Girls gasp.

“What?!”

“You didn’t tell us you were a general!” They accuse.

“I was. Not anymore. I promise to be safe, but I’m afraid it’s my cue to go.”

The girls exchange glances and then beam at him, stomp their right feet onto the ground and puff out their chests in mock salute. He laughs, loudly and sincerely like he hasn’t in years and claps his hands in approval. He bids them goodbye and leaves. Before he does, though, Wilbur salutes back and it’s grand – like the air around him changes. Later Kya comments that if you look at him, really look, you can see everything he is – he’s transparent like a ghost. Mom agrees.

And when they turn away from the door there is a pouch left on the table, that they know wasn’t here before, along with a note. Inside there are Three diamonds, two emeralds and five golden coins.

Mary gasps and shakes her head. What a dilly silly boy.

_____

Dear Mary Janice and two young gals  
To whom I owe my life, apparently. Your kindness is staggering and shall be well repaid. I leave for thee this humble tip to defray the cost of my stay. A little overboard, you say? I’m a man of grand gestures and even bigger words. You may also take this as a final “fuck you” for calling me poor-looking. You need to know, dear lady, that looking beautiful, and refreshing would be my priority had I not had a more pressing matter on hand. Also, should you ever again talk to a politician, current or retired, refrain please from commenting on their status and clothing choices. They tend to be sensitive about that, and some of them are total dicks. (My lord, I sure hope Maya’s not the one reading this letter.)

Anyhow, and in all seriousness – I am forever thankful for your help. If you ever find yourself in need, seek to contact, please, either me or L’manburg authorities. They will be notified of your good deeds and welcome you with open arms. If you’re concerned for your safety here – don’t be. All the conflict that was going on there is long gone. Me and my brothers, the main sources of chaos, it seems, are currently far away.

Once again, Thank you.  
Wilbur Watson-Soot

_____

Maya snatches the note from the table and with gleaming eyes and laughing all the way through, she reads it aloud.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in, boys.


	11. They'll fool you to believe you know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! The chapter I have planned for tomorrow is hella short, and the one's around are also not so long so I could do two in one day, maybe? Do you guys want two today or tomorrow?
> 
> I'm having cereal! :D  
> Is it related? No. Is it fun? Hell yeah!
> 
> Don't get bamboozled

*****

“ **S** o…” he starts, unsure.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Thank goodness you haven’t grown.” He chuckles at that. “Coming back home?”.

“I’m afraid I am moving away from home, right now.” He states.

“Oh, is that so? How can that be?” falls the question.

“I have some business to attend.” He explains.

“With no business partners to keep you company?”

“I think this is something I need to do alone.”

“Very well, then. Will you stay here for a while?”

“I’m in the city for the night. I’ll need some resources.” He nods.

“Eat roasted chicken with me for dinner?”. He tries to decline. “Now that’s not at all how your father raised you, we both know that.” He agrees. They eat.

“How come you’re here only now?”

“I had some matters to attend somewhere else. It seems to be a pattern, these last few years. Always something to do” he confesses.

“But were those matters important enough to take all of your life?”

“I’m afraid so. A few of them, actually.” They laugh at that.

“Such a witty young man you are.”

“Am I? Doesn’t feel like it.”

“When’s the last time you’ve spoken to someone?”

“Touché.” 

“You see, you can only be witty if you converse like a normal human being, my dear.”

“Yes, it appears so.”

“And you won’t be here tomorrow, to speak some more?”

“I will not. It’s a shame, really. But you see, I can’t stay here. Not now.”

“Not ever?”

“Most probably not ever.” He agrees.

“That’s saddening, young man.”

“It is, it really is, isn’t it?”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

“It does. Everyone needs to move on at some point. And I’m moving on tomorrow morning.”

“Will you stay to listen to some music at least?”

“That I can do.”

“Only can?”

“I’m really glad to hear your music.”

“Now that’s better.” He smiles.

Light notes fill the air around the two.

“Just for tonight, it’s good to be here.” He informs and receives a hum in response.

“You can collect the things you need and rest for the night. Are you leaving at dawn?” He nods. “Very well. Join me for coffee in the morning.” It’s not a question, so he doesn’t answer. He waits until the tune ends, stands up and goes. For now, he will sleep.

In the morning he empties the large backpack of what will no more be needed. He looks through things, leaves some and takes some, packs them squished tightly into space left. He pulls a beanie on his head to hide somewhat from the town’s people. He doesn’t want to be recognized, not really.

In the morning, he goes back. It smells of coffee, the cup warm in his hands. They sit and sip in silence, until the cups are empty. He puts the cup on the table with a knock and stares into it’s bottom as if looking for answers. When he doesn’t find any (or maybe he finds them all), he looks up and smiles.

“I think it’s my cue to go.”

“It would appear so.”

“It was ominous talking to you.” They laugh.

“Will your journey be long?”

“It may be.”

“Stay safe, then.”

“I will try. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, young man. It was indeed a refreshing talk.”

“Was it?”

“it was, although I didn’t learn half as much as I would like to.” They chuckle at that, too.

“I would suppose you learned quite a bit from rumors and stories, didn’t you?”

“I did. Not the same as hearing them first hand, though.”

“Maybe someone other will come to tell you them, one day.”

“I hope someone will. I’ll be glad to meet them.”

“Now, could you hold onto this for me? If someone does come, hand it to them.”

“Will do, young man. Will do.”

“Thank you. But it’s high time I left; I far overstayed my welcome.”

“Nonsense. You’re always welcome. You just ran out of time to spare.”

“I suppose so. Anyhow, I’m going. You please take care. It was good, seeing you here.”

“I will. It was good talking to you, too.”

He smiles. “For the last time then, farewell. I hope one day we’ll meet again.”

“I hope so, too. Stay safe.  
Goodbye, Tom.”

*****


	12. But can you fight harm off in time?

____

Wilbur,

We’re neraly back. We found no signs, no trails, nothing. People haven’t seen Tommy and if he was here then you guys have thought him how to hide too well.

We’re about two weeks from the place where we set our pourtal. We’re buying horses from the village, we’ll be home in just few days.

I’m sorry. I feel like I failed you. We know that it was the least bossible direction to go, but it’s still disapointing. I miss him. 

Tub

___

Boys,

It’s fine. You’re right, I didn’t really expect your travels to succeed. But thank you anyway, for the time you all took. Tubbo, you need to go back and take up on your job. Still not sure about how that’ll work, you shouldn’t need to work at all. But you’re the only one capable enough. I heard Puffy is fond of teenagers lately, could you head to her when you’re back?

Ranboo, thanks for looking out for them. Stay safe until you’re in L’manburg and with a roof over your heads, alright?

Dee, happy birthday. I’m sorry I can’t be with you yet again. I love you, champion.

Will.

___

Will,

We’re safely back! We’re staying with Puffy for the time being ad she’s been great so far. **Thank you for your concerns but we’re fine. We will be fine. Fundy’s moved the ‘Trent” sign into your house, you should hide the spare keys better sometime. Stay safe.**

 **Ranboo** , _Fundy_ , Tubbo.

_P.S._   
_Thank you, dad. I don’t mind. Love you, too._

___

Will,  
We have a problem. A really big problem, Will. I haven’t been writing for a bit because we seriously enjoyed the road especially since we’re through the villages and were to move towards the first city but Eret was tired of wearing his glasses so he stopped and the villagers saw his eyes and I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT THEY THOUGHT but they deemed him “not a shifter but clearly a demon. Who only manifests their powers in form of claws and eyes?” and… They hunted us down, Will. He’s been shot, with a poisoned arrow and I can’t do anything. What do I do? With the things I had on me I can keep him in his current state but won’t get him any better. God, he’s so _hurt_. How many lives does Eret have?  
Will, please. Please, help somehow.

___

Niki,  
Niki calm down. We’re good, you’re good, he’ll be fine. You’re amazing and keep him as fine as possible right now. Are you safe for now, will there be no more attacks?  
Boys are back in L’manburg since three days, I meant to give him some more rest but they’ll leave as soon as they can, alright? Hang tight. Send me the list of things you need, we’ll provide.  
Will.

____

I need sugar, glowstone, a fucking lot of netherwart, glistening melons and ghast tears? Tubbo’ll know hom much I can possibly need. You didn’t answer me. How many lives does Eret have?

___

Niki,  
They’re on their way. Hold tight. As far as I know all three, but you can never tell for sure…  
Will

___

**Will!**

**Oh my god, we’ve got your letter. Puffy’s getting our things for the road ready and Tubbo ran off to fetch what’s needed. We’re leaving right away, don’t worry.**

**Ranboo**

___

Thank you, boys.

____

Will,   
Where **the fuck** are they?! He’s getting worse…  
Wilbur, please.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This in not a very fun chapter and, frankly, when I was re-reading it in the morning to check if everything's fine before posting, I added to the tgragedy a bit...  
> Niki doens't deserve to be this miserable:(
> 
> Will Eret get better? Wouldn't you like to know? :)


	13. Can you keep out the cold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo, double chapter:)  
> If we keep up the pace my favourite chapter'll be out on Sunday:)  
> Am I hyped or am I hyped?  
> Enjoy!

*****

Phil’s wings ache. After countless days of constant flight, flight, flight they were sore so much they had to stop for a full day of rest. Even after that he wasn’t able to take off, so they’re climbing by foot for now.

They planned to reach two of the mountaintops today, one not very high, the other bigger. The cold bit their faces and dried their throats, so they stopped talking in favor of silent but a little mor comfortable travel.

The snow is thick, in some places the loose layer ankle-deep, reaching up to Techno’s knees in the others. Phil is disgruntled when he needs to take off his woolen gloves to retie the laces of his left boot. His hands go uncomfortably stiff and dry in matter of seconds. He huffs and grumbles, and when he finally tucks them into the warmed cloth again, he sticks his fingers under his armpits for good measure.

Beside him Techno resumes walking, his heels forcefully digging into the snow.

They reach the first point by midday, lighting up a small campfire to warm themselves up and cook today’s food. They sit as close to the fire as the highly flammable clothes let them, huddled together to share body heat.

When they are done eating and their legs are rested a bit, they move again. Now it’s just a small col and the same way up until the other peak.

The scenery is beautiful, mysterious and unforgiving. Hours pass and their looking around ceases into straight forward stare. They are supposed to look for his son, but it is obvious that no one could possibly live here. They walk forward because if they don’t, later they’ll feel guilty. If they don’t, then what else can they do? If they don’t check every place possible and come back home not finding Tommy, they may still have hope that he’s there, just further away, somewhere they have yet to check. Phil’s fought withers and beasts, had been poisoned with soul sand, pierced with arrows and stabbed more times than he’s willing to count, but he never found a feeling quite as terrible as false hope.

So they walk.

And when they finally reach the top, they’re met by a sight none of them expected. He watches as his son unwraps the red scarf from his face.

“Phil?”

“Techno.”

“ _Phil._ Is that? Phil that’s a dragon.” Techno looks so lost it’s funny. So Phil chuckles.

“Ah yes, it appears to be.” He agrees.

“Why? What? Philza, it’s so _smol_ ” he insists.

“I have not seen one so tiny in my life, too. But I can imagine they come in smaller sizes.”

“Oh, come on, now. He’s, like, a quarter of Steve! And it’s not a _little_ dragon, it’s a fully grown one! Just, teeny tiny. He’s puny! A dragon bean!” The creature eyes them with two wide, baby blue eyes and wags it’s tail not unlike a dog. “Oh, great! He’s also _friendly_. What an absolute disgrace!” He whines.

“Come on, now, Techno. Be nice.” He scolds. He takes off his glove and outstretches his hand, palm facing forward. The Dragon’s head, covered in white scales and adorned with horns, is cocked to the side. Then there’s a wet, cold nose in Philza’s palm. He smiles. Then Dragon opens his mouth and roars, albeit quietly and a bit high-pitched, with flames. Phil yelps and staggers backwards. Techno laughs as he’s forced to stick his hand into a pile of snow to stop the burn. 

Dragon looks apologetic, but there’s a mischievous glint in its eyes. It reminds Phil of Wilbur when he was young.

“Do we tell Wilbur about him?” He asks.

“If we do, will he believe us?” Techno doesn’t really answer.

“Nah.”

They settle for the night, a large patch of land shielded by a stone wall to the side, covering them from the cold wind. The wood is too wet to set aflame, but Dragon opens one eye from where he’s curled on a rock and starts the fire with one breath. Magic creatures do be like that, they shrug. Who are they to complain?

If late into the evening Phil sees Techno fall asleep with arms curled around the strange animal, its head nuzzled into shifter’s neck, then no one needs to know about it but him.

And if in the middle of the night, Dragon blesses the lonely travelers with luck and protection from all harm, or decides to find them to check on them years later, it’s nobody’s business but its own.

*****


	14. Or will you get lost in reverb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem with next chapter? Not written. Not started at all.  
> I'm beggining to question my choices.  
> We'll be speedrunning it later in the day.  
> I got invited to a birthday in 70s style and have no idea what to do.  
> ranting finished.
> 
> Also, I tried to list trigger warnings in the beggining notes, so if you find anything plese shout at me to add it, thank! :)  
> Have fun<3

.

**I** t was stupid, really. He was somewhere in-between two villages when his sword broke. It shouldn’t have, that’s for sure – they were granted the best weapons from Techno’s vault (Why he still had one in retirement isn’t even questioned by anyone. They all know. Even the ones that were there only for the aftermath of the war sleep with daggers under their pillows. Safety comes first.) But sometimes things don’t really go according to the plan. Wilbur is starting to suspect he has a particular gift of going off-script every turn he takes. 

Fast-forward a few days and a few close calls while ducking from the ruthless monsters’ hands at night, he stumbles upon the old mine near the village. Most of the townsfolk use the one on the opposite end, there are only three people venturing inside today. He charms his way into conversation with two strangers and they agree it’s no problem he comes with. It’d be safer, they say, because entering the cave systems with such a small group of people is dangerous. 

It is _extremally_ dangerous, but the three don’t think of that. Whether they’re bold or stupid is up to debate. (Wilbur thinks that they’re both.)

He doesn’t plan on staying in long. Collects a bit of coal, crafting torches that will light up their way and stashes some to help lighting up campfires while he’s on his way. He mines iron to strengthen his tools and as they go lower and lower keeps watch as his companions mine and pack various materials until they can barely lift their bags. Finally, when they reach diamond level, he lets his guard down, scanning the stone walls with careful eyes. 

As they march through the deep cave bottom, he gets enough for a sword and a little bit more. He might use those as payment later on. When the villagers are satisfied with their loot, they begin making their way out. Midway through, they take a wrong turn. And it is not a big deal, really, they menage to get back on track as soon as they realize their mistake. But maybe if it wasn’t for the ten minutes setback they would be spared for the unfortunate encounter. 

Wilbur hears a shout from besides him and suddenly from a dead end appear cave spiders. Five of them. Their long legs covered in black, thick hair are ended with small hooks and Wilbur watches as _forty fucking_ green and red eyes study their every movement. The villagers are screeching. Wilbur only sighs.

When the attack finally comes it’s chaotic. The two of his comrades with little experience they have menage to merely injure three of the spiders, chaotically whirling around. One runs away into the darkness and the other two opt to rest on the support beams that strengthen the celling. The taller villager immediately kicks one of them. _Oh that’s just great._ The pole snaps and before they know, part of the coping caves in. Wilbur slashes two of the beam-spiders, beheads the third one and as the last launches at him, he finishes it with a clean cut through the gut. Blood splashes as the creature falls from mid-air. _Gross._

“We’re leaving. Now.” He commands. And one does not decline or disobey a _command_ from Wilbur Soot. There’s simply no way.

They jog up, minding their steps, the tall guy slips up a few times but doesn’t fall. Only when they’re nearly out dare they slow down. Looking in hindsight, a mistake. Oh well.

Just when they think they’re safe, a sudden weight from up above falls and latches on Wilbur’s backpack and _holy fuck._ He can’t even blink before sharp jaws sink into his right shoulder sending pain and spreading poison through his body. He can’t do anything but the small villager lifts his pickaxe and decks the spider across its head. It falls to the ground, dead.

“Tha-“

“You’re welcome. Come on, now. You’ll need some help with this.” He states sternly. Wilbur nods.

They step into sunlight with no further delay, and they lead him into the village, not stopping even for a moment. His vision sways so much he feels like he’s either sailing or walking on cotton candy. The flaring pain in his shoulder clouds his vision but not enough yet to make walking difficult. What’s a real pain in the ass is that the aching is moving through his whole body as if lightning is swimming from the bite and reaches up to his left toe. In the back of his mind he notes that _that’s not a good sign._

He could boost his state a bit and get about an hour of pain relief with a health potion if he had one. He shouldn’t have wasted it by getting sick while he was too occupied moping around to take care of himself. Maybe strength? It would make him steadier and a bit more in his right mind. But then again, if he gets out of it… When, when he gets out of it, he’ll probably have some problems with fighting off monsters for a bit, it would be a shame to get injured _again_ because he used that extra potion now, unnecessarily. Does he really need to put his trust in local healer? Are there any other options? There must be.

Other options are…

Fuck.

There is a market going on in the middle of the village. That is not ideal, he thinks. Then he wonders if he always goes into Technoblade mode during near death experiences. The tall and not so much tall guy shoulder, push and excuse their way through. On sight of blood covering his shirt some of the women get their children to avert their eyes and they scurry away to provide passing. Someone runs ahead to inform whomever they’re going to of their arrival. It’s… more than he could have expected.

Finally, he sees a house, a small garden and pots around the entrance completely covered in herbs, plants and flowers. A healer, then. Probably a brewer. The woman that stands in the doorway clicks her tongue and eyeing him just once she gets to work. Herbs are collected and as she beckons him inside, she sits him at a table. He gets a bad case of déjà vu from that. 

On the counter on which she works there is a slender, black cat. There’s something off about it. Wilbur glances around the room taking in the bookshelves, crystals and candles laying around. The cat suddenly makes sense. Not a brewer, then. A witch.

“You should probably lie down.” She states before she starts mixing.

“I’ve had worse.” He menages to get out before practically collapsing. With the last of his consciousness, he can recognize she’s laughing at him.

He passes out.

.


	15. The echo of the days that passed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got looong, so I had to split it. Might update it later in the day or tomorrow, don't know.
> 
> If you get tired of the amount of OC's there are than I'm sorry, but that's the way I push my plot and I didn't wanna bend the characters to fit the roles that are honestly not important.
> 
> And if you notice a new subplot I'm sorry, too, I didn't plan it it just sorta... Happened.

.

**H** e wakes up groggy and painfully aware of yesterday’s occurrences. First thing he sees is a pair of green, unblinking eyes. The cat jumps from the windowsill and pads outside. He uses a moment to take in his surroundings. He’s on a hard but not uncomfortable mattress, the room around him similar to the one he remembers from the day before – a high bookshelf to his left, a window coming out to the garden to his right, a few plants and stones on the sill. There’s a dream catcher on the wall, hand woven from a delicate, white string, adorned with little clear crystals and three long, snow-white feathers. It looks beautiful and pure, and he must admit, he’s a little mesmerized.

“Are you up or not? Come on now, I don’t got whole day~” he hears a sing song voice from the kitchen. He’s not startled. He’s _not_.

“G’morning.” He says, entering the room.

“Paul here snitched on you; I’d give you a few more minutes if he didn’t say you’re awake.” She informs. ” Good kitty.” She laughs, scratching the animal under the chin.

“Paul’s not a cat.” Wilbur snorts.

“And you’re not a bird?” She asks.

“Um, no. not really?” he says. “I’m surprised with the little traits I’ve got you were able to tell.” He admits.

“I’m a witch sweetheart.” _‘ I know.’_ “Of course I’m able to tell. _I’m_ surprised _you_ are able to tell Paul’s different. How is that?” She asks, curious.

“Got a fox son.” He says, and she laughs. She looks outside the window and glances around. When she finds nothing she pulls the curtains close. “Go ahead.”

Paul shifts and Wilbur’s shocked by how _familiar_ the boy looks. Or, maybe not familiar, but congruous to _Tubbo_. He looks like they could be brothers, with face young and unscarred, hair a little darker and eyes as green as in his cat form. 

“Well, you’re young.” Wilbur notes. “ Actually, you’re pretty young, too” he says to the witch.

“Oh, _shut up_.” The boy whines. “And you! Don’t you dare call me fucking kitty again or else.” He shoots towards the woman.

“Or else what?” She leans down to him and it seems to anger the boy even more, pointing out his height. _Oh yes, very much like Tubbo._

“I’m a cat and I _will_ bite.” He threatens.

“Menacing much.” Wilbur quips. “Will I get to know who you two are or?”.

“I’m a witch and he’s my cat, what’s more here to know?” She tries. Wilbur raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Alright, alright. My name is Ines and I’m 22. That _child_ there is Paul, a kitty.”

“Oh, fuck off. Don’t call me _that_.”

“Alright, kitty.”

“That, too. Don’t call me _Paul_. The guy seems cool, it wouldn’t hurt me.” Wilbur cocks his head. It’s getting interesting.

“Shut up. We’ll talk about this later.” She scolds. “Anyway, I’m from the south, or, I guess, more south than here. A few years back I was going to travel the world, but I stumbled upon this child and he needed a home so I took ‘im with. Paul’s a name we gave him because before we met he got in trouble and needed to hide for a while. Also if the family tries to look for him he’s safe from them. That’s the information you _shouldn’t need to know._ ”She says, staring straight at the boy and he shrinks under his gaze.  
“That’s not very smart of you to tell me, kid.” He agrees. “I’m safe, but you could never know that, could you?” Not-Paul nods and Ines smiles.

“Then the village didn’t have a healer and we stayed.” She continues.

“That’s it? No conquering the world?” He pushes.

“Oh, we’ll conquer the world, alright. I’m teaching the woman from two houses over all I know, by next summer she should be ready to take over. Then we’re moving again. I was thinking up the map, near the capital. All the things that happened there, they could use someone to clear their vibes.” She smiles. “About that, drink up.” She hands him a cold cup of strong-smelling brew and goes to stir another liquid that simmers above the fire.

“Oh, the SMP would surely welcome you with open arms” he assures and takes an experimental sip from the cup. He immediately splutters and starts coughing. He raises his arm to cover his mouth and _OW_. Fucking shoulder. Not-Paul has the audacity to laugh. “Bloody hell! What’s that. And is that _pepper_?”

“Pepper, bay leaf, turmeric, stuff like that.” Ines says. “Now don’t be whiny, down it all. If you pinch your nose you can barely taste it. I’ll give you tea to wash out the taste.” She promises. Still he eyes the morbid brew with suspicion. “You said something about the SMP? Are you from around there?”

“L’manburg.” He informs and decides that it’s now or never. He gulps down the mug’s contents and grimaces. You definitely can still taste it.

“Oh, is that so? How come you talk highly of the city if you were on opposing sides not long ago? Where you not a part of the conflict?” asks Paul. Wilbur laughs bitterly.

“Oh, I was very much the _reason_ for the conflict to begin with. Name’s Wilbur Watson-Soot. Might have heard.”

“Is that a name I should know?” Ines asks and puts another, this time steaming mug before him. She stirs something in the other way than she should with right hand but he doesn’t comment on that.

“What’s that?” He asks instead, shooting her a warning glare.

“Lavender, rosemary, chamomile, mint and honey.” She provides. He’s not sure about the amount of different plants but tries anyway. It’s good – sweet and soothing.

“Are you joking? The ex-president war general Wilbur Soot?”.

“The one and only.” He admits.

“Dude, there’s so much things wrong with you!” The boy exclaims and they all laugh.

“You seem like the guy to challenge god.” The witch decides.

“I’m not taking that as a compliment?”

“I mean, you could, but probably shouldn’t.” he smiles. 

“When I come back home I’m never leaving again.” He states. “how the hell do people know about me, I thought the rumors were nameless.” He complains.

“Well, most of them are. You need to ask around for more info. And most of that are just not true. For example: did you ever ride a skeleton horse into a castle of glass and shouted ‘geronimo?’ just to prove you are superior to your brother?”

“No?”

“Exactly! Complete bullshit.”

“Could we maybe… not. Talk about that.” Will not-quite asks.

“Nu-uh. We’re not talking at all.” Ines commands. “You young boy, are getting into the cat again, before someone sees you. Then you’d have to work or _go to school_ ” She warns and Not-Paul shivers at that, quickly changing into a cat. He hops on a windowsill and stretches out as if to highlight how much exactly he does not wish to work. “And you,“ she looks at Wilbur ”are getting your bandages rewrapped and going straight back to bed.” She says sternly. He’s about to protest but closes his mouth once he realizes, he _is_ pretty tired.

He follows her into the guest/patient room and sits on the edge of the mattress while she bustles around to get all the wraps, liniments and oils. She cuts off the worn, soaked through bandages and he risks a glance at the wound. He flinches involuntarily. It’s looking bad. Ines looks at him as if to ask if he’s alright and when he nods, she carefully washes the area of the injury with a wet cloth. Then she brushes careful fingers against his skin massaging in the remedies. When she’s done, she covers it in a clean bandage hooking it under his arm and around the torso. The movement causes him a bit of pain but he doesn’t complain, as his eyes begin to drop.

“Done.” She exclaims, patting his good shoulder. “Now rest.” She maneuvers him onto the bed and scribbles a quick symbol over his forehead with her index finger. He drifts of into peaceful sleep.

He wakes up late into the afternoon, sun already low over the horizon and most of the sky already darkened; and he is still tired. He refuses to stay still, though, so he forces himself back into the living room. Ines is nowhere in sight, but he spots a familiar cat laying on one of the stairs leading up, probably into the attic. Wilbur smiles at him at it seems to startle the boy. He swiftly jumps onto the window and closes the curtain as well as a cat can do. He shifts back and shuts it all the way. Then he turns towards Wilbur.

“You look like shit.” He states and crosses the room in a few quick strides. Wilbur admits, he is feeling pretty shaky and his legs are doing a shit job of keeping him up, but he takes offence nonetheless. Not-Paul places the back of his hand on Wilbur’s forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up, Will.” He says, then whirls around to snap off a few mint leaves. He chucks them in a pot and starts adding other leaves and powders.

“Are you even qualified to do that, not-Paul?” The boy stops for a moment to shoot him a smile at the name.

“Yes, I’ll have you know I’m ‘a natural born brewer’ or something.” He boasts. When he notices Wilbur’s scowl, his smirk falls a bit. “What, are you concerned? Because I’m sorry you have to trust me on this but I really am a quite good potion maker, I think, and Ines won’t be back until later and-“

“Relax, kid.” Wilbur smiles. “I just happen to know a boy that you and him are very alike. He’s witty and a good brewer and doesn’t like to be called short, too.”

“That’s because I’m not short!” He insists. Wilbur laughs.

“Just made me think, is all.” Wilbur assures.

“Kay. Is he someone important, that kid?” the boy asks, and he nearly declines, says that’s it’s just his brother’s friend but… Tubbo _is_ important. The happiness when he hugs him is real. The protectiveness is real. The sense of injustice for all that happened and the sole fact the boy has to work, and lead the country, at such a young age is ever-present. The panic when he received the news of the boy’s injury was sure as hell real.

“Yeah. He’s important.” He whispers finally. Not-Paul nods at him and hands him a cup. He thinks he should be mistrustful but his head is starting to ache and he has no more strength to question the boy. He sips the liquid slowly and it’s not that bad.

“You should probably go lie down.” The boy suggests and leads Wilbur back to the room. He leans on the doorway as Will settles back into bed.

“Thanks, Not-Paul.” 

“No problem at all. And, In is going to kill me for that, but…” he takes a deep breath. “It’s Ash.” He informs.

“Thank you, Ash.” Will corrects and Ash nods, content. He blows out the lantern and going back into his cat form settles on one of the shelves. For now, he keeps guard over the stranger.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think, I'm a sucker for comments.  
> I love you, you're important.  
> Take care, less than three


End file.
